


Untimely Confessions

by Kurokosou



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura lives yall, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kidnapping, Lance (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Poisoning, Post-Canon, because I say so, confusing feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24252244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurokosou/pseuds/Kurokosou
Summary: The universe is finally at peace after centuries of war and turmoil; life should be recovering and continuing on as always...why couldn't life ever be that easy for Lance. What started as a friendly visit leads to a whole mess of confusion, playing make-believe for dignitary purposes, a life-threatening kidnapping situation and worst of all - being forced to come to terms with the sudden bubbling feelings for a certain bespectacled tech genius that may not be as sudden as he thinks...Thanks, universe
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12
Collections: Lance Goes Boom





	Untimely Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Yooooo! This is gonna be a long and (probably) painful journey, but I hope you all enjoy! XD
> 
> Check out the lovely art piece by the wonderful numbah34 that this fic is based on [here!](https://numbah34.tumblr.com/post/617703472103669760/this-is-my-art-piece-for-the-lancegoesboombang) (Also thank you for being a saint and being so patient with me! ;3; )

A feeling of nostalgia filled his chest as he strolled through the white halls of the Garrison, a faint smile on his face as he remembered the first time he set foot inside the Garrison. He could recall his eager energy, his anxious nervousness that made him far too fidgety to sit still through orientation, his itching need to start exploring the vast unknown that was space. Lance chuckled at the small group of fresh, wide-eyed young cadets gapping at him as they passed him in the hall, flashing them a friendly smile and giving them a small wave. He had to bite back the laughter threatening to bubble out of him as they saluted him clumsily before stumbling over each other; he remembered what it was like to be young and so star-struck. He shook his head with a small smile, letting out a content sigh as he continued on down the halls towards the lower level labs, easily slipping through the open doors uninhibited; the perks of being hailed as one of the saviors of the universe – he had the ability to go almost anywhere in the Garrison without needing a pass or special permission.

His presence went mostly unnoticed, very few looking up from their work at the slight disturbance, offering nothing more than a general nod in his direction; Lance responded with a brief wave in turn, dark blue eyes scanning the vast open area for one particular figure he knew would be down here. Soon enough he spotted a familiar shade of red bent over one of the many work benches, a grin stretching across his face as he made his way over there.

“Knock, knock~” Lance greeted, gently knocking his knuckle against the back of Matt’s head. The other jumped a little, not expecting the greeting, spinning around with his tools still in his hands.

“Lance! Hey!” Matt’s face lit up with a smile, setting his tools down before taking hold of Lance’s waiting hand, pulling the other man into a one-armed hug. They pulled back, Matt taking a moment to pull his safety glasses up and resting them on the top of his head, his short bangs sticking up as a result.

“Geeze, still not over how short your hair is now; you look like a dork,” Lance teased, loosely folding his arms over his chest.

“Excuse you me, but I’m not a dork – I’m a nerd,” Matt corrected proudly. Lance only laughed, shaking his head at the statement, Matt giving him a grin before turning back to his work bench to organize his tools.

“I’m surprised to see you in the labs – or rather, at the Garrison at all; thought you were ‘retired’?” Matt questioned, raising a curious brow. Lance shrugged, hands reaching out to pick up an unassuming tool from the pile, idly turning it over.

“The yearly Gala – _apparently_ you can’t register online anymore, so now you have to RSVP in person; something about the system getting overloaded and keeping inaccurate track of the attendance count,” he answered.

“Oh yeah, I remember hearing complaints about that,” Matt hummed. “Okay, so that’s why you’re at the Garrison, now the second question – why are you down here in the labs?” he repeated, cocking a brow at Lance as he leaned against the workbench.

“Eh, thought I’d pay a certain tech genius recluse a visit – it’s been a while,” Lance shrugged, putting the tool in his hands back down.

“You’re going to go, _willingly_ , into the ‘lair’? Just like that?” Matt gawked, giving the other a funny look.

“Not the first time I’ve had a hammer thrown at my head – I’ll survive,” Lance scoffed, rolling his eyes. A beat of silence passed between them before both men burst out laughing, Matt clapping Lance on the back before reaching into his back pocket.

“Well if you’re going to go down there, you’ll need this – it’ll make getting in easier,” Matt said, holding up a lamented green keycard. Lance only raises an eyebrow at him, taking the card and flipping it between his fingers.

“Does Pidge know you have her access key?”

“Hey someone’s gotta make sure she doesn’t pass out on her desk again! But between you and me – no, and if she asks, I found it in the hallway,” Matt excused. Lance just laughs, sharing a fist bump with him before taking his leave, continuing on past the redhead’s workbench and towards the doors leading to an even lower level where the more advanced and personalized labs were kept. Lance tapped his fingers to a voiceless tune as he turned the corner, coming up to a door he’s only had the pleasure of gracing maybe twice in the last few years. He held up the keycard to the access panel, the reader silent for a minute before it beeped, the light flashing green as the door slid open with a soft hiss.

Unsurprisingly the room was dim, bathed in a soft blue glow that could only come from a computer screen, casting vague shadows over the varies equipment, crates and whatever else scattered about the room in a chaotic order. How their resident tech genius could stand to work in such low lighting, Lance would never comprehend – and she wonders why he always calls her a gremlin. He carefully stepped around the organized mess, following the light to its source at the center of the room, the distinct click of keys and muttering of techno-babble breaking the silence. He let out a small chuckle, eyes finally falling on the figure hunched over the desk, fingers working with deft speed across the keyboard, completely oblivious to his intrusion. Lance decided to remain quiet a little longer, simply observing the young woman pouring over her notes, her light umber eyes flitting between multiple screens as she compared her calculations; he had to smile at the little triumphant ‘yes!’ that slipped out, watching her straighten up briefly to stretch before resuming her work.

Lance shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against a stable stack of…something, content to stand and continue his observations in peaceful silence. Pidge had pushed her glasses to the top of her head, the light from the screen illuminating her face, turning her already pale complexion ghostly. The harsh light made the small faded cluster of freckles across her nose more prominent, Lance wondering for a brief moment why he had never noticed them before – then again, he never really made it a thing to get _that_ close to Pidge’s face, it usually ended with a tool being thrown at his own face. He hadn’t meant to keep staring, unable to stop himself from thinking just how different Pidge looked now – had it really been that long since they last talked face to face? He tried to recall their last encounter, trying to match the face of the woman working in front of him to that moment; all he could remember the childish wideness of her eyes, the stubborn baby fat still lingering on her cheeks that always made her look younger than a fifteen year old teenager.

It was nothing at all like the woman sitting crouched over her desk, her face now longer, more oval in shape and slightly sharper angles giving her a much more mature look; her eyes had grown narrow, but no less mischievous, shining bright with whatever devious and sinister plot she would come up with daily to torment the poor interns and students working under her on occasions. She had grown her hair out a little over the years – not that she made it noticeable styling it to the side like she always does, rather than leave it in the flippant mess she used to when she was younger; Lance only knew this because he’s received enough end-of-the-day calls to see the difference the lack of hair products could make. He only just realised now just how much he looked forward to those calls, to see the day’s exhaustion seem to melt away the longer their conversations went, the way her reddish brown hair would fall over her cheeks and brushed her shoulder. Lance felt his heart skip a beat, watching the tip of her tongue peek out between her lips in concentration, blinking in confusion as reality sunk back in; just how long had he been staring at her working away at her desk now? And how has she not noticed him standing here staring at her like some creepy stalker by now??

Lance quickly shook his head, feeling – well, honestly he wasn’t sure _what_ that feeling that suddenly crept up on him was just now, frowning to himself before letting it go; it was time to stop being a silent creeper and make his presence known. He opened his mouth, about to announce himself before another thought entered his mind, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, tip-toeing his way behind Pidge, the woman so wrapped up in her work, she barely even noticed. He had to bite his lip to keep from giggling, leaning in as close as possible without touching her, whispering low in her ear.

“You come here to rock out?”

Pidge near shrieked, arm swinging out on reflex in a very offensive strike – fortunately, the years of peace didn’t curb Lance’s reaction time, easily dodging out of the way of the swing as he took several steps back. He laughed at the indignant squawk from her, the heated glare turning into a pout more than anything.

“ _Lance!_ You jackass! How’d you even get in here?!” Pidge huffed. Lance could only laugh, offering her no words, but pulling out her green keycard instead. He could practically see her feathers getting ruffled as Pidge snatched her card back, hearing the distinct mutter of ‘Matt’, a few choice curses and the promise of putting salt into his pudding next time. Lance gave her a moment to shimmer and cool off before casually leaning against the edge of her desk, arms crossed over his chest.

“Good to see you too, you little gremlin~” he teased.

“I’m almost the same height as you, you know,” Pidge snorted, rolling her eyes. She immediately turned back to her multiple screens, typing away like she hadn’t just been scared out of her skin. Lance couldn’t help but laugh at how easily she slipped back into her zone.

“I know you wear platform shoes, Pidgeon – without those, you’re still three inches shorter than me,” he pointed out. He just barely managed to avoid being kicked by said shoe, laughing at the subtle twitch of her lips threatening to turn up into a smile. Lance leaned slowly over, peeking over her shoulder as lines upon lines of code scrolled across the screen; he could feel his eyes crossing just trying to keep up with the words and numbers zipping up the monitor. He blinked a few times to refocus his vision, letting out a sigh as he tilted his head.

“Geeze, you really shouldn’t work in the dark like this – you’ll go blind before you’re forty,” he nagged.

“Lights are too distracting – besides, these monitors were designed to reduce eye strain for comfortable and continual work,” Pidge stated proudly. Lance shook his head, letting out another sigh.

“Of course they are, like you need even more excuses to be a computer hermit,” he muttered. The clicking of the keys stopped as Pidge turned in her seat to face him, hand on her hip and raising a brow at him.

“If all you’re gonna do is nag me about my lack of social interaction, my door is right there,” Pidge jerked her thumb to the door – not that it was an accurate indication with all the junk and whatnot lying in the way. Lance let out a mock gasp, placing a hand to his chest like he had been smacked across the face.

“Excuse me, I’m gracing you with my God-given presence! You should be thanking me, really,” Lance pretended to pout, trying not to smile at the snort from Pidge, the woman giving him a snarky smile.

“Oh so sorry, my liege – I wasn’t aware I had been blessed by your visit,” she said mockingly. They stared at each other in silence before bursting out laughing, Lance settling back against the desk as Pidge turned back to her work, Lance watching her curiously.

“Sooo – what are you working on there?” he asks, not even bothering to follow the codes flashing across the screens. A spark of excitement lit up amber eyes, the grin stretching nearly ear to ear as Pidge dismissed several windows from three of her screens with a wave of her hand.

 _Cute_. Lance felt a tiny smile tug at his lips at the thought, blinking once before shoving the thought quickly to the side and tried to focus on keeping up with Pidge’s rambling.

“Okay, so you know the new defenders I’ve been working on the last few years? Well – I think I’ve finally found a decent power source similar to what the lions had! It’s sustainable, recharges with sufficient energy output and should allow for flexibility concerning structural mechanics! If this works, the new defenders are going to be able to do things even the lions couldn’t do!” She begins to explain her process, explain the steps of her plans with bubbling energy, her hands animatedly waving here and there as if it’d help convey her words better; Lance listened to it all, smiling at the enthusiasm in her voice, her body language – even if he didn’t understand a single thing she was explaining, it still brought a smile to his face to see her passionate about this.

“…I’m sorry, this is probably boring you,” Pidge sheepishly said, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Nah, it’s cool – I mean, I don’t understand any of it, but that’s nothing new, right?” Lance laughed, pushing away from her desk to stretch, hearing his back pop a little. He turned to smile at her, all too tempted to muss up her hair, but he knew he’d get his hand bitten off if he messed up her immaculate styling.

“Besides, I like seeing you excited over this,” he said. He could’ve sworn he saw a faint dust of pink colour Pidge’s cheeks, but the colour disappeared just as quickly as she leaned back in her seat, stretching her arms over her head. Her brows suddenly quirked in confusion, as if she just realised something was amiss before turning her attention to him.

“Wait…why are you at the Garrison? You haven’t been here since…wow, I can’t even remember the last time you were here,” Pidge noted.

“The Gala – gotta register in person now, so that’s why I’m here; figured I’d pay you a visit too since I was in the neighborhood,” Lance answered, giving a quick shrug of his shoulder.

“Oh right – that thing,” Pidge hummed in contemplative thought. She flashed him a playful smile, elbowing him in the stomach as she spoke. “Bet you and Allura are gonna be quite the sight on the dance floor – as usual~”

“Oh, yeah, um…Allura – isn’t actually going this year…” Lance half mumbled, eyes suddenly finding the far corner more interesting. Pidge blinked up at him surprised, throwing one arm over the back of her chair as she leaned back.

“Wait, really? But you two go every year – it’s like, expected at this point, you know, being a couple and all.”

“Heh, what can I say – being the queen is a very busy job,” Lance chuckled, the sound coming out strained and shaky. Pidge opened her mouth to comment on it, but he quickly waved her off, giving her a smile that felt forced, even to him. He cleared his throat to clear the air, continuing on speaking before she could get a word in.

“Besides, I only really go so I can see everyone again; it’s the only time of year we’re all actually in the same place at the same time,” Lance mused, shoving his hands into his pocket as he started to walk away from the desk. “Anyways, I’ve probably distracted you long enough, so I’ll just get out of your hair and let you get back to your technical voodoo or whatever.”

He bowed his head with an exaggerated wave of his hand, turning to navigate back through the litter of stuff blocking the normally straight path to the door; he ran through his mental list of errands he plan to run before heading back home. He barely made it five steps before Pidge spoke up, her question stopping him in place.

“What if I was your plus one?”

Lance spun around on his heels, the sharp light from the screens casting Pidge’s face in shadows, making it hard to discern her expression right now; though judging from the quick cough that followed, he had a feeling she hadn’t meant to blurt that out so bluntly.

“I-I mean – it’ll be kinda sad if you showed up by yourself…wait, no, that sounded worse – _fuck!_ ” Pidge cursed, spinning her chair around to hide the likely embarrassment on her face. Not that Lance would see it without proper lighting, but the thought was enough to make him smile. He let out a sigh as he crossed his arms, thinking about the offer – he really didn’t want to show up alone, especially not with everyone expecting him and Allura to show up together. He bit down on his lip at the complicated feelings surging forward at the thought, quickly shoving them back down into the box they had sprung from – he was done with those. The lack of keys clicking away told him Pidge was still reeling from putting her own foot in her mouth just now, so Lance decided to put her out of her misery, walking back over to her desk to lean against it once more.

“Sooo – pick you up at seven then?” he asks, flashing his trademark flirty grin at her. There’s a stunned moment of silence as amber brown eyes staring wide at him, before being replaced with fond annoyance.

“Make it seven-thirty – my mom is going to _insist_ on dressing me up for the night and that’s going to be a good hour of arguing alone,” Pidge snorted, turning back to her screens with a cock of her head. Lance laughed, giving her the old finger gun gesture for good measure as he headed back for the door.

“Seven-thirty then – see you Friday, gremlin~” Lance heard shuffling and he was pretty sure Pidge was looking for something to toss at his head. He hoofed it quick to the door, fingers fumbling in the dark for a moment trying to find the open switch before the doors finally slid open; the bright light blinded him temporarily, blinking several times till his eyes adjusted to the new environment. He paused a moment to look over his shoulder, just barely making out the now hunched over figure typing away at the keys once again.

“Hey, Pidge…” a noncommittal hum answered him from the dark, feeling a soft smile on his face he knew wouldn’t be seen. “…Thanks.”

The typing stopped the quiet pause long enough for the soft reply to come from across the room, before resuming again. “You’re welcome, Lance.”

He could feel the smile widening on his face, feeling his heart stutter once again and suddenly overcome with the need to rush out of the room – like now. The doors hissed as they slid shut, leaving him standing in the empty and quiet hall with nothing but his stuttering heart and his head spinning with jumbled thoughts. He quickly shook those thoughts away, taking a breath to calm his erratic heart before remembering his errands; he gave a quick slap to his own cheeks, attempting to refocus his mind on task, heading back down the hall and up to the ground level to leave the Garrison. _That was…weird._ He pondered, practically running on auto-pilot as he stepped into the dry heat of the dessert surrounding the Garrison, hand over his eyes to block the afternoon sun; he let out a frustrated sigh at the clashing emotions clouding his mind, striding through the guest parking lot to his car.

He’d unpack those emotions and figure them later out – he had more pressing matters to deal with and several errands to run before the day was done.


End file.
